


All Burn Together

by zuzeca



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst, Bonding, Community: tfanonkink, Dubious Consent, Fate, Implied Mpreg, Loss of Virginity, Other, Parent/Child Incest, Spark Sex, Sticky Sex, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 19:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zuzeca/pseuds/zuzeca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Matrix transformed far more than Orion's body and Megatron is determined to retake control of their collective destiny, at any cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Burn Together

**Author's Note:**

> *sigh* I should have learned by now never to peruse kinkmemes while ill. The last time this happened the resulting story was a crime against nature, literally. In that vein, I filled [this prompt](http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=13876992). Quick and dirty of it is: Orion Pax is the child of Megatron and Starscream and the severing of their creator-creation bonds as a result of him taking up the Matrix produces deeply twisted and uncomfortable levels of attraction between all of them. And then I made the mistake of wondering how the whole Lord High Protector thing might factor into all of this and well...I was doomed. The damn prompt hijacked my brain and sent me on the equivalent of a three day writing bender, all booze and misery and hacking my lungs out. Hooray.
> 
> Not quite sure I filled it to specs because the prompt asked for UST and this ended up as actual porn but PLEASE be aware, this contains incestual contact and DUB-CON in the sense that though the sex is consensual, one partner does not have all the pertinent facts about the family connection. It's all quite Homeric. *crawls away to dig grave*
> 
> And on the off chance that anyone was curious, I did indeed write most of this while listening to [that new Ed Sheeran song](http://mmouse15.tumblr.com/post/66209513112/bunny-wan-kenobi-so-im-kind-of-in-love-with) from the _Desolation of Smaug_. I apologize sincerely if this results in the wrecking of anyone's enjoyment of the song. My mind is a deeply disturbing place sometimes.

When Starscream entered the exterior room encircling the, thankfully private, Primal quarters, he found Megatron waiting for him. “Well,” he said. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Dim red optics lit fully, but Megatron did not move from his seat on the floor, heavy clawed hands resting on the backs of his thighs. “As I recall, you said something similar when I arrived to find you in my berth in the Kaon arena.”

Starscream made a face as he examined the cracked and rusted walls around them, corroded elegance. “This isn’t much of an improvement.”

“There is no time for your particular brand of fastidiousness, Starscream. Are you with me or not?”

Starscream stared at him. “You’re actually going to do it, aren’t you? I’d hoped the Autobot medic had fried something.”

“I am. Unless you would rather wait for another to claim what is ours? The Magnus perhaps?”

Starscream’s hands clenched, claws clinking against each other. “Never.” Forcing his wings down from an aggressive position, he cocked his head at Megatron. “Didn’t they protest though?”

“Of course they did. A previously bonded mech becoming a Protector is, to quote the Magnus, ‘highly irregular’. But Optimus agreed, and despite the rather liberal attitude towards discipline among the Autobots, they will not defy him.” Megatron’s expression darkened. “It seems our connection is not entirely forgotten.” His tone was bitter.

Starscream shuddered. “I’d thought you’d finished with blasphemy when you shoved the blood of Unicron into your spark chamber.”

“If you are so concerned over breaking taboos, perhaps you should not have sired a bitlet on a low-ranking gladiator.” Megatron’s optics narrowed. “Or at least helped to raise it.”

Starscream made an impatient gesture. “As I told you a thousand times, a grounder spawn would have been the _height_ of impropriety. I would have been stripped of my title and holdings in a sparkpulse. Besides, it’s not as if you did much in the way of _raising_.”

“The pits were no place for a sparkling. Better for him to be in Iacon. And as for raising, it took the funds from five matches to pay for his new identity. I have paid for that bitlet in oil and energon a hundred times over.”

Starscream smirked. “He is your spawn.”

“That he is,” there was an edge of possessive pride in Megatron’s tone, but then his expression softened and he looked almost melancholic. “That he is.” Squaring his shoulders, he nodded towards the door to the inner sanctum. “And he is waiting for us. I will do this with or without you, Starscream.”

Starscream gave a put-upon sigh. “At least tell me that he’s had experience.”

“He has kept to the Primal code of celibacy.”

Starscream swore, a Vosian curse so old few recalled what it meant anymore. “Glitched, foolish, _Autobots_. The last thing we need is a cold, nervous lump of Primal metal with no concept of what goes where. We’ll be lucky if we can get him to shut down his battle protocols.”

“Then it shall be our duty,” said Megatron, with a hint of a snarl. “To put him at ease. Hurt him and bondmate or not I shall break those lovely wings.”

“Very well, you old glitch, I’ll play nice.”

Megatron rose and beckoned him. “I shall lead, and for the sake of the Unmaker, put a leash upon your glossa.”

“You always did love to ask the impossible,” muttered Starscream, as he followed his master into the Primal quarters.

The lights were dim, seductive, though Starscream knew well that was a mere accident of a world limping towards reconstruction. The Prime was a shadow seated on the berth, cold blue optics fixed upon them.

“Optimus,” rumbled Megatron. “I presume my bonded needs no introduction.”

Starscream held back a snort. As well as they fit together, in the berth and out of it, Megatron only referred to him as his bonded when it was politically expedient to do so.

Optimus nodded in his direction. “Ratchet has explained the situation.” Despite his calm tone, his posture remained rigid.

Megatron seated himself beside Optimus, close enough to touch, but kept his hands to himself. Starscream hovered awkwardly near the door. “Then you understand that he need not take part in this if you do not wish it?”

Optimus gave them both a long, measuring look. “I do, but I agreed to take you as my Protector,” he hesitated, “with all that entails.”

Starscream had known very little of Orion when he was growing up, but it was moments like these that brought back crystal-sharp memories of a small, serious sparkling hiding in Megatron’s massive shadow, thoughtful and pragmatic, but trusting and possessed of a deep well of optimism that was wholly foreign to someone from the backstabbing and rigidly codified culture of Vos.

Or the controlled anarchy of the pits of Kaon, and yet something in Megatron softened at the Prime’s response, and he raised one heavy paw and laid it against Optimus’s cheek. “Thank you,” he said, thumb stroking at the line of the Prime’s battlemask. “You need not fear me, fear us. Not here.”

Optimus withdrew his mask haltingly and pressed his face into Megatron’s touch.

Starscream hung back, watching as Megatron soothed and coaxed the Prime with a patience and gentleness he rarely displayed, urging him to lay back onto the berth, his voice a low, steady purr. “Open for me, yes that’s it.” His optics flicked over to Starscream and his field gave a pulse of command.

Starscream moved to kneel between the Prime’s legs as Megatron crawled behind him, lifting his chassis and propping it against Megatron’s own. His ventilations were deep and ragged, leg cables twitching in aborted movement.

Optimus apparently had been serious about the Primal vow. Thin silver seals covered both his spike and valve housings. Starscream rubbed a thoughtful thumb across them, exerting a bit of pressure and felt the Prime buck.

“Starscream, as you may not be aware, has a particularly talented mouth, when the mood takes him,” said Megatron, stroking the sides of Optimus’s chassis. “Would you like him to demonstrate?”

Uneasy blue optics met Starscream’s and he did his best to arrange his face into something comforting. Optimus looked rather unconvinced, but he let out a deep ventilation and nodded. 

Spark pulsing with excitement, Starscream leaned forward and swiped the flat of his glossa along the array, pausing to tease some exterior nodes with the tip. Optimus let out a low noise and jerked beneath him.

While some bots might find the Prime’s seals off-putting or hampering, Starscream considered them a delightful challenge. While he’d never ranked so high that his position required he practice abstinence, Starscream had spent his heyday among the nobility of Vos, and never allowed a little thing like an arranged bondmate to keep him from what he wanted. Indeed he considered himself something of a maestro in the art of thoroughly despoiling a bot, while leaving them physically quite intact.

Not to mention the idea of being the first to bring Optimus such pleasure fired something deep and possessive within Starscream’s spark, where the twisted, broken threads of a creator bond still reached out for something, _someone_ that no longer existed.

Settling his hands on that delightfully narrow pelvic span, he let his claws prick and prod between the plates as he attacked the array, pausing the movement of his glossa to rub his cheek over the exterior sensors and let the edges of his helm catch on the seals. Above him he felt a shift and then Megatron’s hand guided Optimus’s and blunt fingers scraped against Starscream’s wings. He hummed in approval, sending low vibrations across the array and arched into the touch.

Optimus gasped and his hands tightened on Starscream’s wings. Charge sparked across his array and somewhere deep inside Starscream caught the faint sound of his valve mechanisms onlining, calipers opening and low rush of lubricant.

Megatron’s fingers brushed Starscream’s face, seeking out exterior nodes at the top of Optimus’s array and Starscream shifted down, focusing his attentions on the valve seal, synchronizing his movements with Megatron’s until Optimus went rigid and made a little choked noise, as though he’d been stabbed. Starscream’s fingers tightened on his hip joints and his spark throbbed with desire, a primal, instinctive growl: _Mine_

Optimus gave a quiet sigh and relaxed beneath him, the roar of his fans loud in the room. This close, with this much excitement, Starscream could feel the generally quiescent bond between him and Megatron rising to life, his bonded’s spark growling and restless, a waking monster. Reaching up, he helped to move the wilting Prime forward, nudging him up and moving his legs apart so that Megatron could kneel behind him and brace Optimus in his lap. A familiar click and Optimus shivered as Megatron’s spike jutted between his thighs.

Starscream’s mouth curled in a smile. Rising, he pressed himself against Optimus’s chassis, stroking his abdominal plating and allowing his claws to prick at the seal over the spike housing as he purred in his audial.

“Magnificent, isn’t he?” he murmured and Optimus’s ventilation hitched. “He hurts you, every time, but oh Primus it’s a good hurt. You’ve never been so full.”

Reaching down, he helped guide Megatron to the mark, something gleeful twisting in his spark when Optimus jerked and cried out as he was pierced. Starscream traced the rim of his valve, allowing his fingers to encircle the base of Megatron’s spike where it stretched the Prime, _their_ Prime, open. 

Trembling, Optimus’s head dropped forward to rest against his neck cabling, and Starscream petted his helm in perverse parody of a creator’s comforting touch. “There, there, you’re doing so well. Just relax.” He rubbed against the spike seal before perforating it with his claws, a quick, sharp hurt that made Optimus’s fingers tighten in retaliation on his wings. Hi spike pressurized and Starscream wrapped long fingers around it, smearing lubricant down the shaft.

Optimus groaned and Starscream mouthed and bit at his neck cabling. His interface hatch slid back, valve dripping lubricant and he shifted forward, clinging to Optimus in an odd, crab-legged stance as he pressed the tip of that impressive spike against him. Their optics met and Starscream gave a wicked grin, holding his gaze so he could watch the minute changes in Optimus’s expression as he slid down on him.

Oh, he was _divine_. Not as large as Megatron but long and thick and there was something about that dawning understanding in his face, the realization that this new bit of data, the feel of a valve, the feel of Starscream’s valve, was even now being seared into that archival processor, that made Starscream’s calipers clench.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he purred, rippling his calipers in more deliberate motion. Optimus moaned and beneath them Megatron gave an impatient growl.

Starscream met those narrowed red optics over the Prime’s shoulder guards and smirked. “Shall we?”

A sudden, sharp thrust was his answer, driving Optimus up into him and Starscream threw his helm back, claws scoring red and blue paint. It was an awkward position, but Megatron muscled through it with the same brute stubbornness he did everything, encouraging Optimus to move with him, ride him, while Starscream clung on, only his calipers in motion as the mountain of metal and protoform, two clashing titans, moved beneath him.

Optimus was the first to fall, his field blazing up and sparks leaping between the plates of his armor as his spike discharged inside Starscream. Hardly an impressive performance, but the wealth of moving charge and the uncertain way he clutched at Starscream and sobbed out his pleasure set off a response deep within Starscream, tripping his capacitors and he clung to the Prime, spark reaching out in twisted longing as the mech which should have been his creation spilled into his valve.

Starscream had been accused more than once of being devoid of empathy or parental instinct, yet there was something soft in the way he tugged them down to give Megatron room to maneuver, keeping Optimus inside him, his wings flattened uncomfortably against the berth. He hummed soothing tones, a half-forgotten melody sung to him when he was still small and new and held tight to Optimus as Megatron thrust into him.

At last Megatron went still above them and Optimus gave a slight shudder as he was filled, spike jumping in involuntary response.

Only rarely did the bond between him and Megatron provide even a flicker of the synchronicity that the poets were so fond of talking about, but now they moved in concert, lifting Optimus, limp and trusting and open, arranging him against Megatron, chassis to chassis.

Optimus’s optics were offline and he made a quiet sound as his audial pressed against Megatron’s chest, venting deeply.

“I did not tell them why I chose you,” he said quietly, his voice shaking. “They would not understand. I do not understand. But…even at the worst, even though it doesn’t make sense…” he made a frustrated and sorrowful noise, “your spark has always felt to me like safety, like protection.”

Megatron’s arms tightened around him. “I will protect you,” he said, and somewhere in those words Starscream heard the voice of a gladiator, speaking to the tiny life he’d carried beneath that powerful spark, birthed into a hostile world. “I swear it.”

Optimus’s chest opened and Megatron brought them together, two blazing sparks, like miniature suns and though what Starscream felt was merely a sense-echo of the binding it was still enough to send him reeling. The knitting of what was long-sundered, and yet never intended to be rejoined.

As if from a great distance, through the conduit of his bonded’s spark, he could feel Optimus reaching, a deep, untenable loneliness and longing, as though he could crawl right back inside Megatron’s spark. Avatar of Primus, without attachment, without connection, perpetual steward of the planet, sprung full-forged to be a tool of their god.

And Megatron answered that longing with his own, his vocalizer alive with wordless growls and clicks, primal soothing song of a creator with a new creation nestled to their chassis.

“Need you,” begged Optimus, in the tone of one who did not know what he was begging for.

“Yes,” said Megatron and Starscream did not need to look to know he was opening, guiding Optimus inside, accepting their Prime in this way as well.

 _“What will you do if you spark?”_ he said, strangely numb. His own charge was rising in response to their excitement.

 _“Terminate it,”_ came the terse reply. _“Our benevolent god will not get another sacrifice for his altar.”_

_“And if he does?”_

_“Then we shall care for it, as for him, and never allow this madness to touch it.”_ Despite the merge, Megatron’s voice over the comms sounded impossibly weary. _“But I doubt it will be an issue. Our coding is too similar. He will more likely believe the Matrix rendered him barren.”_ Megatron’s claws tightened on Optimus’s plating. _“This ends here.”_

Starscream offlined his optics and let their overload rock him, resisting the urge to cover his audials when Optimus cried out in unfamiliar pleasure. It would not be the first time he had followed his master into madness and he doubted it would be the last. Perhaps some measure of salvation could be wrangled from this abomination.

And if not, at least they would be a family again.


End file.
